


Triptych

by LJs Stalker (Brink182)



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Forced Voyeurism, M/M, Rocco knows nothing, Yakavetta's men are evil, everyone dies, how the hell is Vincenzo still alive?, non consensual gang bang
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:16:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brink182/pseuds/LJs%20Stalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three one-shots. A/U for the end of the first movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Connor

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of bad stuff happens to Connor here. I'm sorry.

**Triptych**

**By: Little Joe’s Stalker**

**Disclaimer** : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

**Part One: Connor**

Connor MacManus was blind. And gagged. A large rubber ball was clenched between his teeth. _A fucking ball gag._ Even in his mind, he was offended by the object. He was also tied down to a springy surface. And it was cold. He tested his bonds and heard the tell-tale clink and scrape of metal on metal. Handcuffs to metal bars or poles or posts or whatever. Footsteps approached and a hand pulled hard on his short hair. Connor winced.

"Ah, the Pretty-Boy's awake," sneered a voice.

Connor wrinkled his nose at the comment. He made him sound like a fucking fag-pretty-boy. He'd show him 'Pretty-Boy' if he wasn't so incapacitated like he was! The footsteps paced around.

"What we gonna do?" questioned a second voice.

_That's what I'd like to know, too,_ thought Connor.

"Do? What we gonna do? I'll fuckin' show ya what we gonna do," replied the first voice.

Several cackles arose at that comment. The little hairs on the back of Connor's neck stood up. _What the hell?_ Connor strained his ears and heard a tiny click, a clunk, and what was that last one? A zipper, maybe? _Shit._ Things were about to get real ugly real fast. Footsteps once more approached-well, it had to be a bed now, hadn't it? Connor begged silently to be spared this degradation/humiliation. The mattress dipped with the extra weight upon it. A thick finger brushed against his entrance, gently massaging the tight ring of muscle there. Connor clenched more. This sick bastard was not getting in without a fight. The finger slowly worked its way past layers of taut muscles desperately trying to keep it out. A second finger was added, helping its brother out against its stubborn foe. More reinforcements were supplied by a third finger. Finally, a sizable gap was achieved. Connor's legs were pushed further apart and the thick fingers grasped his hips. _nonononononono..._ A shadow fell over him. Hot breath tickled his ear.

"I'm gonna stick ya like a pig, Pretty-Boy."

The voice came in a soft whisper like a lover's caress. _You're certainly sweating like one, lard-arse._ The pain. The most unimaginable pain, radiating deep inside and spreading out. The man over him groaned and panted as he thrusted in and out of him.

"How is he, Vinnie?" called out a voice.

'Vinnie' only grunted in response.

* * *

Connor lost track somehow of how many times he'd been fucked. After awhile, it all blurred together into one never-ending torment. He was startled to realize he was crying and didn't know how long he'd been at it. The cuffs around his ankles were being released. He didn't care. He knew he should care-lash out at his captors, but he just didn't care anymore what happened. One wrist was uncuffed, the other one stayed attached to the bed post. He was maneuvered onto his knees. Sausage-like fingers caressed his face- _Vinnie again_ -before unbuckling the gag. He felt fingers lightly stroke his lips. Soon, Vinnie's hot breath was in his face. He was being kissed. Vinnie's mustache tickled his nose. Teeth tugged painfully at his lower lip. Connor winced. Something thick and fleshy was pressed against his lips.

"How do we know he won't bite our dicks off?" asked a voice, fretfully.

"Looks the type-not like the usual," added another.

"Because if he does; we'll do worse to his brother."

They were right; if he wanted to protect Murph; he'd have to play nice. It was the only way for now.

* * *

"Pretty-Boy knows what he's doin'," Vinnie reported to the others, his hips rocking at a brutal pace-it was difficult for Connor to keep up and not choke on the thick cock down his throat, "probably done this before. You're nothin' but a slut, aren't ya?"

* * *

Finally, Vinnie shot his load down Connor's throat. Connor coughed and choked and spluttered and it came back up. It tasted worse the second time around. He'd barely recovered when another one demanded entrance to his mouth.

"Christ, that feels good!" moaned the man.

* * *

Connor was glad for it to be over. He wanted to see his twin. His other wrist was released and he was pushed onto all fours. _No, not again!_

"You're such a good whore, you make me so fuckin' horny, Pretty-Boy," said Vinnie, like it was an apology.

He threw his legs over his shoulders, nails digging sharply into his hips and then the pain of once more being breached, of feeling his insides being ripped apart. He screamed. He wondered where their stamina came from. _Were they on drugs?_ He was pulled to his knees by his hair. His hands scrabbled over the concrete floor, trying to hold onto something and stay there.

"Open that pretty mouth of yours."

Before he had time to respond, meaty hands not belonging to Vinnie pushed past his lips and forced his mouth open and held his jaw still. Vinnie liked to shove his cock as far down his throat as he could. Connor put everything out of his mind besides not choking on Vinnie's cock. _Don't think beyond the job that's in front of you, Conn._

* * *

 

He found himself on all fours again. _Again?!_ He was shocked to find himself being entered twice at the same time. He could feel the skin around his entrance tear. This was the worst pain yet. It was worse than before. _Why wouldn't they just stop already?_

* * *

At last, it was over. Connor was nothing more than a bleeding, leaking, sobbing heap on the floor.


	2. Murphy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more of the same in Murphy's POV this time.

**Part Two: Murphy**  
  
Murphy MacManus saw the whole thing. There was a two-way mirror between the two rooms like a police interrogation room on TV. Murphy was tied to a chair in one room; his twin handcuffed, blindfolded and gagged lying on an iron-framed bed in the next room. Connor was also naked. Murphy already didn't like this. Soon, a bunch of Yakavetta's flunkies entered Connor's room. They waited for their prisoner to regain consciousness.  _They wanted him aware before they began._

* * *

Murphy noticed Connor stirring at the same time as a fat man who was dressed like Elvis did. He walked over to Connor and yanked on his hair. Murphy winced in sympathy. He couldn't hear anything. The man released his brother and circled the bed, beady eyes never leaving his brother's body. Murphy tried to leap through the mirror when he saw the look of pure lust on the Elvis-wannabe's face. One of the younger guys said something and the fat man answered, unbuckling his rhinestone-studded belt and unzipping his crushed velvet pants.  
  
"Hell no!" Murphy shouted in alarm.  
  
The now pants-less man once more approached the bed.  
  
"Don't fuckin' touch 'im!" Murphy warned menacingly, even though he knew he couldn't be heard.  
  
Murphy swore as his brother was fucked on the bed. It was a gang bang!

* * *

Murphy's heart hammered painfully in his chest as Connor's handcuffs were being released.  _It was over!_  His joy was turned to panic when it was clear they weren't going to unlock the last cuff.  _What are they doing?_  The fat man approached him with a fresh erection.  ** _Do_** _something, Conn!_  Murphy silently begged his brother. But Connor didn't do anything. The fat man raised Connor to his knees and knelt in front of him. He touched his face and ungagged him; fingers lightly lingering over his lips.

Murphy stared in shock when the fat man pressed his lips against Connor's. After the kiss, the man stood up and pressed the tip of his cock to Connor's closed lips. There seemed to be much discussion between Yakavetta's flunkies and Murphy wished he could hear what they were saying. Suddenly, Connor opened his mouth and allowed the fat man to slip his cock inside.  
  
"Wot da fuck ya doin', Conn?" Murphy demanded of his twin.  
  
He watched in horror as Connor sucked the cock of every man who'd just raped him. But he couldn't seem to keep their come down.

* * *

When Connor's last cuff was unlocked, Murphy wasn't sure if it was a good sign or not. He'd been wrong once before about his brother's release and didn't want to get his hopes up for nothing again. Murphy's heart sank as his brother was forced onto all fours.  
  
 _Oh, no._  
  
The fat man tossed Connor's legs over his shoulders, grabbed his hips and rutted like a dog in heat. Murphy could see Connor scream and his blood boiled.

* * *

Connor was once more on his knees, having his face fucked by those sick fucks. Murphy yelled obscenities at them.

* * *

_Would this nightmare never end?_  Murphy wondered, as his brother was double-penetrated. Murphy's heart broke for his sobbing and bleeding twin. He wished he could trade places with him to spare him this suffering.

* * *

The fat man had a gun.  
  
 _What the-_  
  
The silent bang was the worst sound ever. Connor lay still on the floor-skull, hair, blood and brain matter all over the floor, the walls, and the sick fucks standing there with limp dicks flopping obscenely around. Murphy screamed loud and shrill, tears running unchecked down his face. It was an inhuman animal-like scream. Murphy went mad with rage, desperately trying to free himself from that damn chair.

 


	3. Rocco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end

** Part Three: Rocco **

Connor and Murphy were dragged unconscious out of the room, after Yakavetta's guys had roughed the three men up. Rocco feared they'd be killed. Rocco thought back to all the good times they'd shared. He'd miss those two for sure, but was most saddened by the knowledge that if they all died, no one would continue their good work in the city. Rocco would die three times over if it spared the twins so they could keep on going with their thing.

* * *

Several hours later, Murphy was brought back into the room. He was crying and screaming insensibly, his face red as a stop sign with snot coming out of his nose.

"What is it? What's wrong?" asked Rocco, "Where's Connor?"

Murphy cried harder and screamed louder. Rocco winced at the volume. He tried to get his Irish friend to calm down before he made himself sick.

"What happened, Murph?"

Murphy's tears started all over again.

"Conn, he-he-oh God, wot dey did-"

Murphy sobbed brokenly.

"They killed him."

Murphy nodded. Rocco had the feeling he still didn't know the whole story.

"What else happened? Did they hurt you?"

"On'y m' 'eart," replied Murphy, between sobs.

"Connor?"

"Dey fucked 'im!" screamed Murphy hoarsely, "fer 'ours!"

Murphy hung his head, all out of energy to do anything else.

"Made me watch," he whispered.

"No..."

* * *

 

Poppa Joe Yakavetta entered the room.

"It's time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no excuse for this. I am so so sorry, everyone.


End file.
